To Leave and Let Leave - A Gay Love Story

[Happypup]

[HendryTan]

1. Love it!

 

2. The story offer us a better understanding of the Grindr Generation, how the younger man cruise, date and think.

 

3. The author made an effort to inter-twine the development of the 2 main characters by alternating chapters.

 

Looking forward to the next chapter !

 

Cheers !
 

 

 

 

 

[FleaBiscuit]

Chapter 16: BEN

 

There is something curious about studying your own body in the bathroom mirror. Safe from prying eyes, you feel protected from the judgement of others. And yet some part of your mind chastises you shyly for your own narcissism. 

 

I draw my face closer to the mirror and see a  young man with a sharp jawline and dash of facial hair. 

 

My lips turn up at the side, a ghost of a smile. They purse into a thin straight line as I force the smile harder. I do silly looks, giving flared nostrils, raised eyebrows, widened eyes. 

 

The silliness is halted by laughter, with equal parts of embarrassment and amusement - what on earth am I doing?

 

But that is when I find what I was looking for. That split second, when genuine laughter simmers into genuine smile; bright eyes coincide with popping cheekbones, and I look handsome. 

 

I watch as the smile lingers on my face, until it's gone. 

 

Then a finger presses in the middle of my chest, gently running down the ridges of my taut body. The embarrassment is stronger here as I admire the masculinity of my toned physique. 

 

Don't do it, a voice sounds at the back of my mind. 

 

But I do it anyway. My head tilts back with closed eyes the moment I start caressing my right nipple. My soft breath takes me into a mental fantasy. Chris - in his uniform, shirt unbuttoned, sitting on my lap pleasuring me. 

 

My cock responds accordingly, and this erection feels powerful, naturally throbbing. It is so different from me feeling horny and deciding to arouse a sleeping dragon. Now I'm horny, hard before I've even touched my dick.

 

I regain semi consciousness of my surroundings and hold onto the counter for support, stroking my hard meat. This position only makes me picture Chris before me, and it's him who's holding on for dear life while I ram quick and fast from behind. 

 

My god, the thought of dominating him-

 

The shrill ding! of my phone jolts me from my reverie. Its suddenness zaps me with a chilly tingle down my spine. 

 

Chris: Whatchu up to?

 

It seems inappropriate to tell Chris that I've been jerking off fantasizing about burrowing my cock in his ass, so I ignore my phone for now. 

 

There's something liberating about walking out the bathroom naked when no one else's around, stiff dick flapping with a spring.

 

I put on the clothes already laid out nicely on the bed. My shirt is buttoned and some Chanel perfume is sprayed in the air. I walk into it with a deep whiff of the woody scent, sure to attract guys like pheromones. But that being said I'm sure the manly musk from my toned body would have sufficed anyway. 

 

In the living room, Money patters over from his temporary nest, tail wagging slowly. He wiggles his head, scratching at the cone collar with a paw. Ma wouldn't like me touching him now that he's infected with ticks, but he's too cute to ignore with those big, doleful eyes. 

 

'Aww, Money I'll be back soon ok?' I tell him, scratching in between his ears. 

 

I feel a little guilty leaving him all alone at home, but Ma is coming back soon anyway. Once she's done with her weekend rendezvous with whichever rich guy. The poor thing watches with his nose pressed between the gate bars as I drive away in the Mercedes. 

 

It doesn't take long to reach town. Parking is once again a nightmare, having to luck out with several competitors roaming about looking for available lots. 

 

The cityscape is as alluring as I can remember. Lights, lights of different colours everywhere. Huge brand banners are plastered on pillars, their logos sitting prominently on the facade of buildings. Cafes line the streets, pulling in hungry customers with their cosy ambience. As usual, attractive people are littered generously among the crowd, a great, moving wall of people. I take a moment to bask in the sweet melodies of a busker, his looks as good as his voice. The little audience claps after his soulful rendition of Someone Like You, hushing again as the melody of A Thousand Years permeates the air with a serenely romantic feel. 

 

But I move on quickly. There is a goal to fulfill tonight. Tonight, I'm a wolf out to hunt.

 

Outside Taboo my phone declares another incoming message. As I enter the club indiscreet gazes fix on me. Other creatures of the night wanting their fill.

 

Chris has sent me another message asking to meet tomorrow. But now that he's attached it seems pointless. No need to turn up and try to be attractive anymore. 

 

I feel wretched, thrown back into the unrelenting cycle of un-falling for someone I can't be with. It's as if I mingle with guys only for a boyfriend or a friend with benefits, never a friend of the simple, platonic sort. It makes being gay seem almost like a toxic part of my life, an evoker of all the bad within me. 

 

'Yes?' 

 

I look up from my phone at the stalker behind me, who's been staring beadily at the entrance. 

 

He hesitates after my cold reply, but not for long. I glare icily as the middle-aged man  takes a step forward, hands withdrawn, wrists curled up.

 

'You're very cute la,' he says, and a lustful snarl cracks upon his pimple-scarred face.

 

His vile look almost makes me puke, and I notice how he's stalking forward slowly, a predator on the prowl; but he's not a wolf, just a mutt in a lowly mating dance. 

 

The thing takes two fast, daring steps toward me, but his move is something I've foreseen. I grab his greedy hand before it violates my crotch. But the other sickening one cannot be stopped in time as it squeezes my chest. 

 

'Wah so hard!' he cackles, backing away as I corner him, making my grip on his wrist a monstrous one.

 

My hand lashes out powerfully and slaps his face so hard he stumbles sideways, crashing into new entrants. The satisfactory echo of the slap awakens something in me. 

 

The two entrants recognise a club brawl and scurry away without a word. I glower at the filthy coward, now a frightfully fearful sight, a dark glee soaring within. A mirthless smirk comes at the sight of the handprint on his face. 

 

'You...y-y-you fucking jibai arh!'

 

He takes to his heels, clearly ready to run. But he can't, and is in fact lucky enough to be saved by the bouncers.

 

'He touched me,' I say with a shrug, slipping my hands into my pockets.

 

'Touch only must punch arh?! Y-you made of gold har?! Bloody hell kanina!'

 

I give him the most murderous look I can muster. 'You better shut the fuck up before I castrate you.'

 

'Sir, please follow us outside.' One of the bouncers motions towards the entrance.

 

'I'm a paying customer why must I leave? You ask this young boy to leave! Really stupid idiot one, little bit then must use violence. Fuck your jibai mother la!'

 

I feel the very same anger clicking into place in a split second and I'm lunging at the scavenger. One bouncer wraps his arms around me, gently saying things my seething anger has blocked out, the other escorting the mortified bitch out of the club. 

 

The sight of him slinking away calms me down gradually, and I even let out a laugh. 

 

Did an old ugly guy really think people would stand by him? Against me? Not possible in the gay community. Everyone wants a chance with the hot guy. 

 

I let out a puff of air and straighten my shirt; time to act like nothing ever happened. The stray hair that falls across my eyes is folded back in place. 

 

It's been at least 2 months since I last stepped into Taboo. I'm back. And I need to re-establish my place at the top of the food chain. 

 

Heads turn as I amble comfortably to the bar counter. Every pair of eyes staring pushes me further up the hierarchy. 

 

'Eh Ben! Wah long time no see! I'll get you the same?'

 

'Sure. Is Matthew not working here anymore?'

 

'No leh. His holiday ended so, back to school lo.'

 

Seducing the crowd is like fishing: you can't see your prey, and all you can do, really, is trust in your skill. When the martini arrives I begin my own mating dance.

 

My first step is to stare into space, head tilted down slightly - that way your cheekbones and lashes catch the light.

 

Then I hold the drink between my index and middle fingers, giving the martini a slow swish, never losing the sultry, steely gaze. 

 

It is always important to maintain a Christian Grey-esque air of enigma and classiness. Oh, but, I forgot to mention. This tactic only works if you're good looking to begin with. Sexiness can compound exponentially, but a foundation of peppy, good looks is paramount. 

 

Ok, seems like I've reeled something in. A shadow is cast before me from someone standing behind.

 

'I gotta say, mate, your back-view makes me rather curious about the beauty you're hiding in front.'

 

That corny, unconvincing attempt at an American accent. 

 

I jerk my head up.

 

'Hey! So excited to finally meet you. Wanna go grab-

 

-oh my god look at how much you shot!'

 

'Hey babe wanna watch Mockingjay next

 

'I can't help it, ok! You think I have a choice?! My family isn't like yours!...Lets just break up.'

 

All the memories of a past loved and hated swim before my eyes, sprouting and breaking away out of nowhere. The bright, vivid images recede, melting into damp warmth.

 

I blink rapidly and look away, before turning back to him. This time my smile really is empty, hiding the iciness gripping my heart like a vise, making it pump wildly.

 

'Ben,' he utters, shock written all over his face. 

 

'Warren.' 

 

I break my gaze from the very eyes I've loved before. 

[FleaBiscuit]

Hey readers! Sorry for the loooong hiatus. I've been busy with A levels, and though it did end a couple days ago it was extremely challenging trying to regain my writing mojo. Readers-turned-friends waiting to read certainly helped expedite that process HAHA. My mind felt like it was smoking smth when writing this latest chapter - do comment if it's bad (I felt like it might be).

 

Cheers!

[Happypup]

6 hours ago, FleaBiscuit said:

Hey readers! Sorry for the loooong hiatus. I've been busy with A levels, and though it did end a couple days ago it was extremely challenging trying to regain my writing mojo. Readers-turned-friends waiting to read certainly helped expedite that process HAHA. My mind felt like it was smoking smth when writing this latest chapter - do comment if it's bad (I felt like it might be).

 

Cheers!

 

Been waiting so Long and you never disappoint! Especially love the beginning and the end of the chapter.. and that teaser for Warren makes me look forward to the next chapter on Ben!!! Wow!

Edited November 25, 2016 by Happypup
Typo

[FleaBiscuit]

Chapter 17: CHRISTIAN

 

I lay sprawled on my bed like a delinquent ready to flunk my prelims, phone in my hands. Actually though, the odds aren't in my favour. There's still the weekend to concentrate my efforts, and certain subjects have given me several safe Bs without studying at all. An A is not something I'm striving towards anyway. 

 

Diminishing returns on efforts, you see. One can derive his pleasure in many ways, not just good grades. 

 

Right this moment all I'm looking forward to is the meeting with Mike. I've not met him this week yet, but it seems laughable to whine when it's clearly because of work. He must be doing something to earn that amount in Nestle, right? Whatever it is I've missed his boyish smile and our s-exciting misdeeds in his car. 

 

I've uhh, milked whatever I could from our last encounter during periods of do-it-yourself in the shower. Pretty sure what happens today will give me a shot in the arm for getting back to the grind. 

 

Mmm...just picturing myself unbuttoning Mike's executive wear makes me stiffen a little. 

 

I retun to the conversation on KFC while casually feeling my hardness through my pants, rubbing the width with two fingers. 

 

Me: Omg Feli fuck off la. You this kind sure all Bs at least stop saying you'll die plox

Kara: ILR

Kara: IKR* 

Felicity: But girls have to work harder since we're using our prelim results to apply! Kara if you don't want to study in sg you better start working harder hor

Me: Sg unis are actually not bad la

 

But of course Felicity won't listen. She's a good friend and this is not to speak ill of her, but she was born with a silver spoon, free to pursue anything. At times that freedom is flaunted a little too brashly in our faces.

 

Mike will be late again. To date he's never adhered to any of our agreed meeting times, not even that time when he said he'd be five minutes early. At some point I simply stopped caring. I remind myself all the time that dating someone is hard, and you compromise wherever you can. It's a good way to train my patience, isn't it? 

 

When his message comes in at last, I'm so shocked my phone falls onto my chest with a thud. Ouch - I had been half asleep. 

 

Mike: Hey babe!! Sorry for being late. I'm going over to fetch you now?

 

As usual the conversation ends as soon as it starts. Mike goes offline right after the message, giving me no chance to force him into blueticking. 

 

I look at the time, get on my feet, and snatch a second glance. It's 7pm, which means he is late by 2 hours already. An exasperated groan escapes my mouth and I roll my eyes. There's no way I'm getting home by 8.

 

Already, an excuse is forming on my lips, ready to use: I studied with my friend at Starbucks. 

 

Perhaps it's time for a conversation on punctuality and actually keeping to his word. Sure, it was sort of an offhand remark, and we didn't officially agree to meet at 5. But Mike does this every single damn time. Agree casually on a time, be late and act like nothing's wrong because 'it's work'. And I hate feeling like I'm playing second fiddle in this. Having to compromise for his oh-so-busy schedule and having to bear with last minute cancellations. 

 

Me: Will I seem like a shitty and whiny 18 yo if I tell Mike I feel unrespected?

Kara: What happen babe??

Felicity: Just do it man. If you feel that way not right then obv smth's not right

Me: Yeah...but it could be me who's not right. Not him.

Kara: Babe you need to talk it out

 

But I consider my options and think better of it. Being 18 is a dangerous thing if not handled properly. I can't act like a besotted kid failing to realise adult responsibilities. Mike chose to forgive our age gap because he thought I was mature enough. Besides, spoiling the mood doesn't do me any favours, since I've been looking forward to the physical intimacy after dinner. 

 

No, I can't fall into the precipice of being the stereotyped toxic partner. 

 

I brush my teeth to get rid of any bad breath and change into my usual ensemble of t-shirt and shorts. Not dazzling, but it's me. 

 

Mike is already waiting below for my arrival. When I get in the car the same old greeting comes.

 

'Hi babe!' Same old boyish voice too. 

 

'Hey!' I reply with mock excitement. It's so not me having to raise the decibels to feign excitement. Usually I just...dawdle along with a resting bitch face, and get told I'm glaring.

 

I realise the car is silent the same time it dawns upon me that I've taken Mike's efforts for granted. Usually it's him who starts a conversation. 

 

'How was your day?' I ask, turning to Mike with my best glitzy smile.

 

'Tiring lor. You know my stupid boss...'

 

I'm sorry, I think guiltily, as a glaze gets drawn over my eyes. I lapse into muscle memory as I zone out utterly from the droning of the day. Sights and sounds become a blur as I nod my head mechanically and reply with 'mhm' with appropriate intervals. 

 

My soul is yanked back into my body when my subconscious picks up on an upturn in his pitch. It means a question has been asked.

 

'I mean...' I look at Mike pitifully, trying to come across as empathetic, when in fact I'm distressed for having no idea what he asked. 'It's ok la, I make you happy later ok?'

 

My generic yet cheeky reply scores, and Mike slips his hand into mine. I sneak a look at the rearview mirror to spot a grin on his face. 

 

Finally - some of the previous cosiness and sweetness restored. Ever since the night he agreed to date me, it's been difficult to recreate that same lovey-dovey feeling. It doesn't help that we meet so little per week. Every meeting is a rushed meal that seems to end up with him returning to work. Conversations are squeezed in between mouthfuls of food, and yet are so forgettable. I end up going home wondering how we've developed further towards a relationship. 

 

Mike detaches his hand from mine as we near the carpark of Causeway Point. 

 

'Hm?' 

 

'Nothing,' he says.

 

But I know exactly what the something is. The perpetrators of our separated hands walk on the pavements right at the entrance of the carpark, innocent passers-by. The catch? They're straight. 

 

'So how've you been?' Mike asks, a weak attempt at reconnecting. 'Busy with school?'

 

'Mmm yeah...been quite stressed out for prelims. Oh by the way, some guy confessed to me you know?'

 

'Wah so famous arh,' Mike says matter-of-factly while parking his car. 

 

'He already knows I'm dating, but still wants to try cos I'm not officially attached yet, haha. But I just don't have feelings for him la.'

 

'So your purpose of telling me this is?'

 

My radar spots the danger instantly.

 

'No la just saying lor. He's a future doctor leh.'

 

'Ok can. Future doctor then go be with him lor.' 

 

Oh fuck. This just nullified my earlier efforts, and now Mike is drifting away even further. As drastic action I playfully massage his shoulders. 

 

'No la, you jealous issit. I just meant that I rejected him, cos you are more than enough mah.'

 

A hint of a smile blossoms on his lips, and I heave a sigh of relief internally for salvaging the situation. 

 

'Where do you want to eat? Is there a sushi place around here?'

 

'Yup. At level 5 I think.'

 

'Okay. Let's head up.'

 

I wrinkle my nose a little while entering the Japanese restaurant. It's been bothering me a little while how Mike seems to be paying for every meal at some place (relatively) extravagant. Yet suggesting the food court is grossly embarrassing, and I can't bear to feel that pathetic, exposing the world between us so blatantly. 

 

I know, then I shouldn't complain about being treated.

 

We both pore over the menu, and I'm more conscious this time. I suggest sharing a meal, as they're rather substantial and Mike wants to order some sushi anyway. 

 

While he places the order I get on the phone to read my notifications. 

 

Kara: Wtf Priyanka is damn fcking pretentious i swear

Felicity: IKR forgot to give out notes on time again then blame Shannon 

 

Arthur: Hihi! 

 

I click on the Line message from the mysterious guy, probably another one who has seen my old 'Ltr (compiled)' post. Either that or he wants to join my Line group. Arthur's profile picture reminds me of a kindly polar bear, someone I wouldn't mind being friends with. 

 

Me: Hello! What did you contact me for?

 

I only realise the silence later rather than sooner. It seems Mike has also resorted to using his phone. A slight frown creases his forehead, lending menace to an otherwise bored expression. He lets out a huff through his nose upon noticing my stare. 

 

'Mike?'

 

'Yes? I saw that you were engrossed in your phone conversations so I started using mine for entertainment.'

 

I wince a little. Less because it is a jab, more because it screams 'typical bitchy gay accent': words slurred dramatically with the last syllable dragged out. They scrape on my ears like steel scratching on copper. 

 

'I'm sorry,' I say facing down, suddenly wishing Ben hadn't gone MIA, or I could've been meeting him today. 

 

'It's ok,' Mike says with a forced smile that looks like grim pursing of his lips.

 

'What're you doing?'

 

'Nothing. Just looking at the Instagram of my exes.'

 

The bitchiness is gone, but not the lazy drawl in his words. 

 

Mike faces his phone towards me and I'm looking at an Instagram page with 20k followers.

 

'You see this guy? I used to date him. I know the boyfriend too.'

 

He scrolls down the page slowly, clicking on photo after photo. My split second of marvel is replaced by something else. 

 

'He's not even that good looking. Just lucky to be rich lol. I mean, he's ok but uh, 20k followers?'

 

Mike ignores me and shows me another page. 

 

'This one also. But quite long ago already.'

 

I take over his phone and sneer, unconvinced, at what's before me. Too many pictures with ultra bright lights and filters, obviously a try-hard attempt at portraying Korean-esque porcelain features. But he tried hard enough to gain 20k followers too.

 

'Ok so if they're that famous then why did you leave them?'

 

'Because fame changes people.'

 

'What do you mean?'

 

'This guy...after he started mixing with the more popular gays, went to those gay clubs in Tanjong Pagar quite often. I just really couldn't take it you know, I felt so insecure lor. In the end we decided we would be better as friends. Then this guy-

 

Mike switches to another Instagram profile page. 

 

'- he was the one who abused me. Remember? The one who threw the vase at my head. So you see arh, that's why I don't want to date famous guys anymore.'

 

Yes I do remember. But I don't care who these guys are. 

 

As much as I wouldn't want to admit it, a tinge of something has crept up in me. It makes me feel so juvenile and embarrassed, like I've turned into one of those insecure partners often depicted. 

 

This is like a game of wits. It's as if Mike is retorting my 'med student' scenario earlier. Or perhaps he's really just warning me against the dangers of seeking online adulation. 

 

Whatever it is I feel nauseous now. When the food arrives I stuff it into my mouth and swallow mechanically. 

 

The sense of sudden unfamiliarity with the guy sitting beside me makes my mind feel detached from my body. That sense of nausea is compounded as I think of the popularity of his exes, compared against which I am nothing. Never have I felt so inferior.

 

After the meal I stride away quickly. Mike calls out to me and I ignore him, maintaining the distance between us.

 

He eventually gives up, and as the insidious nausea relents, I begin to worry about how far I've pushed his limits today. During the ride home I suggest taking a walk in the park, suddenly desperate for the chance to patch things up - firmly.

 

'I'm tired.'

 

And that's all he says. 

 

Overwhelming guilt oozes out of my pores, and I grow cold with fear of what I've committed. When Mike stops the car I don't get out, and instead turn to face him.

 

'Do you have anything to say?'

 

'No? Why don't you get out? I want to go back to rest. It's been a long day.'

 

'I know something's wrong, Mike. Can you just...say?'

 

'I'm just...disappointed. I came here after work to pick you up for a nice meal - and I'm already broke you know? - and I didn't do all that just to see your black face.'

 

No you're not broke! 

 

This is like witnessing the horrible, imminent end of something beautiful. When I finally dare to speak I have to dig my nails into my flesh to stop shaking.

 

'That wasn't a black face. I just felt, like...what were you doing showing me all your exes? It felt like you were showing off or something and yes to be very honest it made me feel insufficient.'

 

'I was trying to be nice and tell you about the dangers of being high profile. So disappointed that you chose to misunderstand me. By the way if you choose to become high profile in the future...I may have to leave you.'

 

I didn't choose to misunderstand you! And why did you need to click on picture after picture to tell me that?! And you know what - my Instagram page has only 1 darn picture. You're misunderstanding me fucking completely too!

 

The indignation and humiliation pools within me, in a well-hidden pit. Words bubble like froth ready to spill over, and yet they catch on my tongue. And they fail me. Words fail me and my perceived eloquence and there's nothing I can say to defend myself.

 

'Okay please get out. I'm tired and want to rest.'

 

Deciding that I need no further humiliation, I leave, routing past the back of the car. No turning back with a sweet, sad smile this time. I walk to the lift and enter. Enter my home without any scolding from my parents about lateness. I go to my bedroom and get my phone out.

 

Arthur: How's your day?

 

I don't even know why I bother replying. Is this not the part where I cry on my bed and feel sorry for myself? Why am I telling a complete stranger what happened? 

 

Arthur: Contain it. Or it will mean war

 

I pause. 

 

He's right. So I begin writing my long message of apology.

[FleaBiscuit]

On 26 October 2016 at 9:09 PM, Mastiff said:

Wow. How much of this stuff is based on real life experiences?  

 

I've lived through so many of these scenarios, but had long forgotten them till reading your stories brought the memories back - both good and bad. 

 

All except for the prescient, uber supportive mum with the nice digs. 

 

Yeah, I could have done with one of those. 

 

 

 

  

 

 

Sorry for the long-delayed response. I just wanted to reach the contents of chapter 17 before commenting on your post. Many of Chris' plot strands actually coincide with real situations in my life. Mike is a real person although I know him under a different name. 

 

Chapter 17 was surprisingly hard to write despite having gone through the events depicted. Perhaps it's because I've moved on, and revisiting those events is a little difficult. 

 

That being said I give all my love to Ben's character as well, and much of his inner life also reflects my character.

 

 

[FleaBiscuit]

On 31 October 2016 at 10:44 PM, HendryTan said:

1. Love it!

 

2. The story offer us a better understanding of the Grindr Generation, how the younger man cruise, date and think.

 

3. The author made an effort to inter-twine the development of the 2 main characters by alternating chapters.

 

Looking forward to the next chapter !

 

Cheers !
 

 

 

 

 

Thanks so much for all that love.

 

Cheers!

[FleaBiscuit]

CHAPTER 18: BEN

 

I take a good look at the person sitting opposite me. Warren Leow Wei Ren. 19 years of age, 1.75m tall, 60kg. 

 

Or at least those were the numbers I knew him by. 

 

He must be 21 now, more beefed up, better looking. Watching him stuff his food into his mouth reminds me inexplicably of the past when we were together. Back then Warren had the appetite of the royalty. He was choosy with his food and took everything in small portions. Except when it came to ramen. After every meal we would go to my house to - 

 

'Why're you staring?' 

 

I smile and look away. 'Nothing.'

 

'Don't judge. I'm in my bulking stage.'

 

'I'm not! It's just...everything about you has changed. Except that dopey accent.' 

 

Warren makes a tsk sound and breaks into a smile. The smile goes as quickly as he comes, and he stabs at his char kway teow in a daze. 

 

'You're probably thinking what's gonna happen now?' he asks. 'What all this means.'

 

'I had sex with my ex last night. That's all,' I say with a shrug, tucking into my dubious-looking turkey carbonara. 

 

'Hmph,' Warren smirks with a shake of his head. 'Always trying to act cool about things.'

 

Warren has changed. Completely. 

 

In the past he'd never have psychoanalysed me like that. Warren was someone simple, albeit clingy. 

 

There is a mature candidness and sensitivity he effuses now, and I like that. I find myself unable to look away even from his simple act of eating, not yet certain what the voices in my heart are singing. I never thought he'd come back to me. Not once in the past three years of living. Back then I ached every single moment away from him, and it felt like I was dying, like all the purpose for living had stolen from me in the blink of an eye. When we were together I'd think of us in the future, going out on dates after school, after work, after waking up in the same bed one sunny Sunday morning.

 

Now he is here, and we are (sorta) out on a date together. But everything's changed. 

 

Right now, he's giving me tissue paper in the capacity of an ex, not a boyfriend. 

 

'Lets go,' he says, wiping his mouth. 

 

We stroll along the great shopping belt in town, nearer to Dhoby Gaut. In this part of the central district it is slightly quieter, a little bit of a ghost town this time of the night. 

 

'I left my church. And my family,' says Warren and pauses, as if waiting for me to prod further. 

 

'What happened?'

 

'I got a scholarship, so university fees are settled. That frees up time to work, and I rented my own place. Was time I left that house anyway. See? No more cane marks. The church somehow managed to track me down. But I told them to fuck off!'

 

We both laugh, and looking at Warren feels like diving into a long lost dream. The neon lighted signboards around the shophouses cast an alien glow on his face, but his smile turns it beautiful. I had almost forgotten how handsome he was. 

 

'So...where do you live now? What do you do to earn the money?' I find myself naturally lapsing into another version of his corny American accent. 

 

'Oh I teach tuition. And do some part time work. It's not all that hard actually. Just spend my money wisely.'

 

'Do you pay for a gym membership? You look like you work out.'

 

'Oh really?' he asks, giving a shy snigger. 'Well I couldn't waste money on a gym membership right? So I work out 40% on the tennis court and 40% on the volleyball court.'

 

'And the other 20%?'

 

'In bed.'

 

The devilish grin Warren gives is heartbreakingly beautiful, and it messes with my head. I find it deleting the memories of us breaking up quicker than I can hold onto them, eager to fill fresh pages with new ink. 

 

But then, it was never his fault. He was forced to give me up. Being 19 he stood no chance against the wrath of his church and his family. 

 

Or have I really forgotten the whole truth of what happened?

 

Warren pauses outside a 7-11 store and tells me to wait while he makes a purchase. Waiting for him drives me crazy, reawakening old instincts of younger days when I'd wait for him to try on clothes again and again. 

 

I reprocess everything that has led up to this impossible moment.

 

We met at Taboo last night, we fucked at my place, slept through much of today and now we're strolling the streets after dinner. 

 

Nothing about this seems right. He's the person who left me in a flurry and broke off all contact one September night. Something seems off but I don't know what. Perhaps we should be bombarding each other with questions, loading each other with blame. But no, we're hanging out normally like long-lost friends who decided to catch up. And now I'm waiting for him outside 7-11 like I always did outside clothing stores. Like I did for 2.5 years after he left me.

 

When Warren returns he tells me he wants to go home. The dream may be coming to an end. 

 

'You're always a gentleman right? Send me home?'

 

'Sure,' I say, and we head out onto the main street to flag a cab. 

 

I genuinely am curious to find out how he's living. 

 

Okay, one more thing remains the same. Warren falls asleep anytime, anywhere. It always begins with him fighting to stay awake, and you know he's losing the battle when he starts tilting. Now he's completely asleep on my shoulder. The taxi uncle gives us occasional glances through his rearview mirror, clearing his throat suspiciously. But neither of us says a thing, determined to ignore each other. 

 

At the foot of his block I wake Warren up and pay his cab fare for him. 

 

'Thanks for paying,' he says with a yawn, walking drowsily. 'Wanna come up and have a look?'

 

I shrug and follow him up to the 8th floor. 

 

At the door he tells me, 'I know you're rich so, don't judge.'

 

'I won't,' I say, and pause two steps in. 

 

The flat is spick and span, bare without the sense of barrenness. There is a two seater sofa, coffee table, tv. The marble floor is immaculately clean, and the furniture is free of strewn clothes. I'm actually impressed. 

 

'Sit,' Warren says and turns on the fan. 

 

I make light steps over to the sofa, somehow feeling the need to respect the peacefulness of this little sanctuary. 

 

Warren gets me a cup of hot chocolate, my favourite drink. Instead of sitting beside me he drags over a stool to sit in front of me.

 

'Wait, your mum won't mind right? You being out this late.'

 

'No she's actually overseas.'

 

Warren raises a brow with a badly controlled smile. 'Where?'

 

'Berlin. Shopping as usual haha.'

 

'In the long run, we're all dead,' we both mimic my mother's favourite phrase at the same. Warren's eyes widen in surprise, as do mine, and we break into laughter.

 

My mother's motto is to 'fuck in the present and fuck the future'. Her current trip to Berlin is probably with a new toyboy or hot daddy. She promises a threesome with a hot bisexual one day, but I've already rejected her offer firmly. 

 

I'm pretty sure she's joking anyway. My mother is weird, but probably not mentally deranged. Yet.

 

'So how've you been all this time?' Warren asks.

 

For the first time since our chance reunion, I feel anger rising to the fore. Memories plunder the depths of my mind, vague and shifting, but surely unhappy. 

 

'I've been fine,' I say curtly. 

 

There. The mood has been spoilt all because of three words uttered coldly. To avoid further awkwardness I rise to take my leave.

 

Like in a scene out of a movie Warren stops me.

 

'Wait,' he says, and I pause. 

 

It is now so quiet I can hear the click click click of his clock amidst the very light howling of the breeze. 

 

'Wait,' he repeats, this time in a whisper, and yet with more insistence. 

 

I turn to see Warren's face scrunched up and realise, no, his ugly crying face is not out of a movie scene. It's raw, genuine feeling. Only I don't know what it is. All I do is stand here and watch him cry helplessly.

 

'Are you ok?' I ask, and the voice sounds alien, like someone else asked.

 

'I'm sorry,' he says in a muffled voice. 

 

I walk over and place a hand on his shoulder, looking down into his face.

 

'Hey Warren you ok?'

 

'I didn't want to,' he says, head down, hands  limp by the sides of his shaking body, growing delirious with regretful grief. 'I missed you so much! But my dad was beating me everyday! I had no choice Ben!'

 

'It's ok, it's -'

 

A rush of tension blasts up my nose and in just two seconds I go from comforting to needing it. It's like all the chains and questions that tied me down have vanished, now I am sure Warren had no choice, and he left loving me. 

 

He left loving me.

 

I cry into my hands tears of exoneration, of liberation. And it feels so stupid yet so good, us freeing each other from all those years of regret. And true freedom, it seems, ultimately still comes from looking back rather than forward, allowing yourself to relinquish in all hell's pain. 

 

Warren recovers first, enveloping me in a hug. I can feel his rapid heartbeat and the warmth of a familiar body. And for that I'm grateful. 

 

'Stay,' he whispers hoarsely, and I know it is meant to be a tentative question. 

 

'Okay,' I whisper back. Of course I will.

 

Warren pulls me by the hand into his room, and then kisses my neck urgently. He yanks off his shirt and I take off mine, before we meet again at our lips, kissing so fiercely he stumbles backward into the wall with a loud thud. 

 

Something animalistic in me is evoked, as if tonight is gracing a full moon. I break off the kiss and fling Warren onto the bed, pulling off my pants off so violently it feels like abuse. 

 

He reaches into a pocket and pulls out the 7-11 plastic bag. Condoms. Then he wriggles out of the rest of his clothes. 

 

Has he been hoping for this?

 

I press my naked body over his and give his ear a little nib. We laugh inexplicably, and never has Warren looked so gorgeous while drenched in moonlight. 

 

'Do you want me?' he whispers with arousing horniness, licking my neck playfully.

 

Yes I want him. Without a word I flip his lean body over and dive for his sweet ass, sticking my tongue into him, sucking, kissing his sacred tenderness. Warren pushes himself against my mouth and moans louder by the second. 

 

Gosh I really want him.

[FleaBiscuit]

CHAPTER 19: CHRISTIAN

 

I take 30 minutes to complete my apology message. It elucidates the irrationality of my actions, how they were driven by insecurity, and not anger towards him. And it's because I care that much about how I compare. And I'm sorry. And I'll never let it happen again. 

 

My mum barges into the room while I'm checking through the message.

 

'Do you want some fruits?' she asks.

 

'No.'

 

'Just go take la.'

 

'Just leave!' I hiss. 'I'm just not very happy right now ok?!'

 

I hear the crunching of an apple in her mouth. After that, soft footsteps and the shutting of the door.

 

Fuck me, I close my eyes and think. How could I have snapped at my mother that way?

 

Then I revert my attention back to the all-important message, tweaking and rephrasing to achieve poetic fluency. After clicking send I tap my pen on my desk anxiously, and then doodle a chick on my Math workbook.

 

The long wait begins, almost driving me asleep when the reply finally comes in. 

 

Mike: Goodnight

 

Fuck you, I think. Fuck you! 

 

I had spent so long writing that, and all he could reply was goodnight?! 

 

My bitchiness kicks in, adrenaline that makes my fingers fly across the screen.

 

Me: Can you at least reply to my earlier message? Don't avoid pls

Mike: I'm not going to be receptive to what you have to say. Is that what you want?

Me: You said your piece in the car. And I listened. Can I just have some receptiveness now?

Mike: No. I'm very tired. Sorry I really have to sleep. Feeling unwell.

 

There is no retort I can find to that. So I sit in my chair, seething and fearful at the same time. A confusing cacophony of emotions are boiling within, the only similarity being that they're all felt intensely. 

 

Me: Just let me fix this

 

It is a last ditch attempt at mending a broken bridge, a sorrowful plea to let me bear the burden of the remedy. 

 

As I give up on work and turn off the lights, the sentence arrives. 

 

Mike: What's there to fix? Nothing is broken. There is nothing to fix

 

Maybe Mike means there is nothing left to fix. It is a death sentence.

 

I stare at the little screen of light in the darkness of my room, desperately hollow because it is a cause lost, hollowly desperate because it is a lost cause.

 

But wait a minute. 

 

The pool of indignation rises slowly from the sludge in my mind, burning and melding into a thought. The ridiculousness of it all slams into me like a hammer-blow - why am I given a sentence worse than my crime? Why am I the one bearing all the guilt? I am ferociously certain that Mike had meant implicitly to show off his exes, hence sparking the whole fiasco. Surely he deserves more blame, while my insecurity was an understandable reaction that deserves little. Surely he deserves more blame for shutting off my explanation, choosing to maintain a mental advantage over me, instead of resolving the conflict.

 

Maybe the novelty of dating me wore off and he wants a fight to end it. But it's so ridiculous, too ridiculous to be so angry over something so trivial.

 

The screen goes dark and I curl up in bed an angry child. Unkind thoughts fill my mind to the brim. I think of how much I hate Mike, how much of a disgusting person he is. I even think of stabbing him and his pathetic screams for mercy. 

 

How dare he do this to me? I'm 18 and wanted by many while he's 32, sounding the death knell of his youth. How dare he act like the one with greater power. 

 

My phone, now in silent mode, lights up quietly.

 

Arthur: So how did it go? Settled the issue ma?

Me: He didn't even want to listen

Arthur: Ic...just give him some space la

Me: He doesn't need fcking space he just wants to shut me off so that he has the last word

Arthur: Ok you sound like YOU need space. Just jo or smth and be happy. You want my help?

 

Arthur sends an animated sticker of Snoopy doing a funny dance. My mind is a little confused, unsure of how to react to the grossly inappropriate sticker. 

 

Oh well I suppose the world moves on and others continue living their lives no matter how angry I feel. And I shouldn't expect people to become as insufferable as me. 

 

I sigh: if only my own date could reply as frequently as this guy. For a moment there he did, but that took a fight. 

 

Me: It's ok I'll do it myself

Arthur: Ok goodnight then! Enjoy

 

Everyone is now asleep. Certain that I won't be crudely interrupted I pull down my pants and underwear. I get hard easily because it's been 4 days. And 4 days' worth should not go to waste. 

[FleaBiscuit]

Something about a double posting felt right  Really enjoyed writing these two chapters. Genuinely felt them. I hope you guys like it and

 

Cheers!!

 

ps I want to thank the magic of the very late night/very early morning 

Edited December 3, 2016 by FleaBiscuit

[FleaBiscuit]

CHAPTER 20: BEN

 

The movie screen cuts to black and the lights blink back on. But I am reluctant to leave, ignoring Warren who's tapping my arm. 

 

No, it's not because I want to continue soaking in a romantic moment, but that I feel insanely awkward standing out as the only 18 year old among the crowd. I mean, it's Bridget Jones' Baby. No guy my age in his right mind watches a movie about a middle-aged woman trying to get shagged. Right? I wouldn't have come if not for Warren.

 

'So how was the movie?' he asks as we trail the last group out, a troupe of aunties chattering excitedly, one or two even dabbing at their eyes.

 

'Nice,' I lie, making sure to blink my eyes, a tactic I use whenever I tell a fib. 

 

He nags how it was such a dreamy, perfect ending that Rene Zellweger chose to be with Colin Firth in the end. I guess his enjoyment makes everything worth it. On second thought, we seem caught in the very same fairy-tale. Lovers torn apart, breaking contact for years before reuniting against all odds. 

 

We go to the kopitiam right outside the mall for some food. At 2pm there isn't much of a lunch crowd. Warren collapses onto a seat, resting his head on his arms. 

 

'Ben can you please help me get fish and chips? I'm really, really exhausted.'

 

'Exhausted from last night? Fair enough. You slept at 4am.'

 

'Yeah and it's all your fault! Ramming all night...' says Warren, voice trailing off sarcastically. He stands up and gives my cheek a pinch. 

 

I nudge him playfully, a little too hard. In a fateful accident he bumps into a woman carrying a tray of noodles. His laughter turns into an 'oh shit'. The bowl tilts forward, soup and noodles emptying onto her clothes. She drops the tray in a loud clatter, her shriek of anger piercing the air. 

 

'Zhe shen me yisi ma ni?!' she hollers: what is this about?! The woman glares at Warren, a hand awkwardly reaching into her bra to fish out a noodle strand. Two obvious cups of pink leer out of her wet tee. 

 

'Oh my god I'm so sorry,' says Warren, hands held out in a conciliatory manner. 

 

'Ni zui hao pei chang sun shi wo gen ni shuo! Zhe shi ming pai de yifu!' warns the woman, finger pointed like a gun at Warren. You better pay for my losses, she is saying. These are branded clothes!

 

'I did not do it on purpose,' insists Warren.

 

I roll my eyes in hopelessness. Resolution is impossible if they don't even understand each other. 

 

The woman makes annoyed whining sounds while crossing her arms over her chest, pretending to protect her modesty. But seeing how the tee is already so low cut she must be a slut in disguise trying to exude purity. Emblazoned obnoxiously on her tee is Bottega Venetta, which has one t too many, excess fake-ness that can also be seen in her oversized boobs and impossibly thick lashes. 

 

I step in to deal with the bitch. I've dealt with many Chinese loud-hailers in my life and this is just one more to pin down. 

 

Her eyes widen excitedly the moment she sees me whipping out my wallet, but her expression twists completely when I slam 20 dollars onto the table beside her. 

 

'Ben don't,' Warren says but I hold him off, knowing full well what I'm doing.

 

'Come on,' I say, dragging Warren away. 

 

'Ai! Xiu xiang tao pao!' screams the Chinese woman, warning us not to escape with a stomp of her foot.

 

But we're out of the kopitiam before we know it, and she hasn't chased. Not surprising, considering her shirt was probably not even 20 bucks, but 20 yuan instead. 

 

Warren laughs and grabs my arm. 'Oh my god did you see her fucking face?!'

 

'Don't give these loud-hailers a chance to bargain with you. They're too trained at it.'

 

I notice Warren smiling to himself. 

 

'That was hot though. What you did.'

 

It's my turn to laugh. 'Hot?' I ask. 

 

'Yeah. I'll...show you how hot I think you are when we reach your bedroom.'

 

I feel a burn coming off my neck, and renewed adrenaline hums through my veins. Am I excited or nervous? I wonder what Warren has up his sleeve. His newfound flirtatiousness is something I could get used to. These moments when he comes out of his shell and really dares to want something, they used to be far and few between. 

 

As we walk and pass slutty remarks at each other I feel like I'm riding a wave of deja vu. As if I'm recovering what I'd lost three years ago, bit by bit. I look at Warren's smile and it all still seems a little surreal, too good to be true. That he was simply thrust back into my life. 

 

But really, who cares? Fate has taken the first step, and it's my job to make him stay.

 

'Sit!' I hear, as we near my house. 

 

The voice doesn't program in my mind until it's too late and bam - just like that Warren and I are facing my mother. 

 

She looks like a moonstruck goldfish, eyes open so wide even her plastic double eyelids are gone, and her mouth is slightly agape. 

 

Oh. My. God. She's supposed to still be in Berlin. 

 

I find myself growing stone cold, noticing from the bottom of my vision Money pattering over to the gate to greet me. 

 

My mother stalks over to me like a proud leopard, shoulders jutting one after the other in tandem with each step. Finally she grips the gate bars dramatically, tossing a vicious look like an enraged criminal locked behind bars.

 

Her blood-red lips twist into a snarl. 

 

'Ben what is going on?' 

 

'I'll leave first,' Warren says softly, but is interjected before he can turn. 

 

'Not so fast,' Ma orders with a fiery, authoritative voice, enunciating each word clearly.

 

Warren looks up at my mother, but his head is hung slightly in defeat. 

 

I can't let Ma destroy what I'm trying to rebuild.

 

'Just go,' I whisper to him, nudging him slightly. 

 

'It's ok,' he whispers back, but is already talked over by my mother.

 

'It's Warren right?' My mother breaks into brief mirthless laughter and folds her arms. 'Now now please remind me why you are with Ben again?'

 

Warren gives a stale sigh as his only defense, and I know at once that his sign of weakness will only be taken advantage of. 

 

Ma presses the button and the gate slides open slowly. 

 

'How dare you just waltz back into Ben's life like nothing happened? You leave my son alone!'

 

Ma storms forward, and I hold her by her arm. Warren simply looks at me with a confused look, refusing to leave. 

 

I feel something snap in me, a fight instinct that needs to protect Warren. She doesn't know anything. Not one bit how I ached for Warren to be back. What does she know about the rock bottom chances of us ever reuniting? It was pure chance. Pure chance! How could she ruin my opportunity like that?! God knows how many people out there leave their partners for good, regret it, and never walk the same path again. 

 

She needs to learn to live and let live. 

 

'Ma stop! You always think you know everything but you don't! Your own marriage failed ok?! Pa tried to save it but you didn't even give him a chance. At least I'm trying!'

 

My body feels hot, energized by anger and indignation. This is my life, my choice. If she doesn't support it, so be it. If she didn't want to save her own marriage, so be it. But I'm 23 and old enough to make my own decisions. 

 

Ma looks overwhelmed, half laughing and inhaling. 

 

'Now now Benedict Tang you listen very well,' she hisses darkly with lacerating effect. 'My marriage didn't work not because of me. You better pull away from this toxic person before you get hurt - again. You think you know him but you don't.'

 

Ma turns to address Warren coldly.

 

'And you. Do you know how badly you hurt Ben? I watched him get thinner and thinner and I couldn't do anything about it as his mother! You don't deserve a second chance in his life.'

 

'Candice!' 

 

I look up to see my dad marching out the house. He gives a knowing frown and steps in front of Warren. 

 

'Leave,' he says, and Warren finally gets his escape route. 

 

'Michael Gallagher you have no right to interfere in this,' Ma almost spits. 

 

'Just let the boy lead his life!'

 

'You weren't ever here in his life!' Ma suddenly yells with renewed fury. 'Don't pretend you care now!'

 

'Lets go,' Pa tells me under his breath, walking over to his car. 

 

I follow, blocking out whatever Ma has to scream. I'm used to that. They argue so frequently about anything and everything I simply don't latch on anymore. 

 

As we drive away I turn around to see Ma wiping her tears with her palms, slowly entering the house. 

 

'Are you thinking of getting back with him?'

 

I purse my lips and think carefully. 'Maybe. We'll see. But I don't see why she's so fucking mad about it. It's not like Warren had a choice.'

 

Pa gives a long, slow sigh. 'Your mother is right, Ben. That boy is toxic and maybe you don't know him as well as you think.'

 

I'm flabbergasted that my dad is taking her side. 'Ok and...the both of you think you know better? I mean, she never bothered to hear him explain and you weren't really here when we were together.'

 

There is a long, awkward pause. 

 

'Your mother hired a PI. That boy was never part of a church; he was never out to his parents. And those marks on his body? They were probably self-inflicted.'

 

I am caught in a moment of dry heaving and wrestling out of disillusionment. 

 

Warren lied and maybe he never loved me.

 

My phone buzzes.

 

Ember Model Agency: Hi Ben! We'd like to invite you for a photoshoot in our next gym-wear campaign. Do come down as soon as possible! Naomi. 

 

'Pa drive down to Dhoby Ghaut thanks.'

 

Pa looks at me but I stare straight ahead. 'Are you ok?' he asks, voice rinsed with concern.

 

'Yeah,' I tell him with a smile and a shrug. 'I knew all that already. Warren has explained.'

Edited December 14, 2016 by FleaBiscuit

[Guest On Fire]

Thanks for your latest updates FleaBiscuit. I guess the short recap is Chris broke up with Mike but is being helped through it by an online chat buddy named Arthur, while Ben is fleshed out as Eurasian and had been starting to rekindle the past with his ex Warren, who is, or was, actually a lying psychopath.

[Guest Good]

Good Stuff  

[FleaBiscuit]

CHAPTER 21: CHRISTIAN 

 

I am rudely awoken by the ding of an incoming message. Because I'm not one to get up instantly I laze on my bed, eyes shut defiantly, inhaling the faint whiff of bad morning breath. When my phone sounds again I flip over reluctantly on my tummy to grab it.

 

Ben: Hey! Are you up? 

Ben: If you are I was thinking of jioing you out XD 

 

Oh it's him! Our last meeting feels like a lifetime ago, some hot guy I gave up (willingly) because I had just begun dating. 

 

Since I'm most likely to agree I'm already forcing myself out of bed to the bathroom. I sink onto the toilet bowl with a lethargic sigh, one of my favorite places to text. Sometimes to text and wank. 

 

Me: Where??

 

I'm about to send that message when I check myself. That can't do. Subtlety is exigent in the world of online communication; never appear overeager for fear of boring people with your easiness. Be restrained, be the enigmatic, jocular hippie. Reel guys in with a lure, and not a shove or yank.

 

Every character makes a difference:

 

Me: Where?

Ben: Dhoby Ghaut lor. Was thinking of asking you to my photoshoot

Me: Wait what what photoshoot 

Ben: Oh I'm actually some part time model mah

Me: WTF??

Ben: Ok no la only freelance. So you wanna come?

Me: Huh but I dunno how to go

Ben: Don't worry bout that. Will fetch you from DG mrt. So cfm arh? 

Me: HAHAHA ok la I'm also interested. Prob need 1.5 hrs ish

Ben: K cya :•)

 

I pee and brush my teeth hard to ensure they look clean. There's little time to waste but I put on my skincare anyway. It actually doesn't matter how hard I try because next to Ben, no gay guy will grant me a second glance. Not even Mike. I am simply doing it to look mildly presentable.

 

I dress casually, pulling on an Agents of Shield tee and bright red shorts. Then I'm out. 

 

As I always do when I get out the house, I search around just a bit for the neighbourhood cats. One - a fat orange beauty - sleeps on the bench near the letterboxes. I caress its fur with the softest touch I can muster. The cat awakes with a bit of a start, but instantly calms down upon seeing it's me. It yawns, and I carry it, pressing its warm body close to me before placing it down on the bench again. And then I'm off a happy guy.

 

Me: Omg guys guess what I'm going to some photoshoot of some guy lol. He invited me!

Kara: Is he cute??

Felicity: What photoshoot

Me: I don't really know what shoot but he's fcking hot so I don't mind seeing him shoot XD 

Felicity: ... then what about Mike 

Kara: HAHA yeah lor you one leg step two boat??

Me: Nothing on btw us ok -.-

Kara: Btw guys I also have something to confess 

Me: ??

Kara: I recently got attached!

Felicity: OMG WOAH

Me: OH. MY. GOD. Is he hot? Pic NAOOO

 

Kara's picture seems to reaffirm my suspicions that straight guys are indeed hotter than gay guys - in general. 

 

Me: Holy shit so fit

Felicity: Not bad gurl!

Kara: He's from hwachong dragonboat 

 

I sense the auntie behind me in the queue giving my screen a suspicious glance, and I scroll up from the picture of the hot guy. More information can be grilled out of Kara later.

 

Wow. Even Kara is attached now. My dating life is on the rocks and there's no telling if I can do anything to reverse it. I sigh subconsciously, so loud that some heads are turned towards me. 

 

Mike hasn't replied since last night and I'm too afraid to press him for an answer. I feel like I need to deal with this maturely, which is to give him space. That means suppressing whatever crazy urges I have to

demand instant communication. But it goes against my conflict management instincts.

 

Wattanaporn has added you as a friend!

 

I launch the Line app to see who this Wattanaporn is. 

 

Watti: You're cute. Fuckable.

 

A strange guy with a strange name.

 

Me: How did you add me?

Watti: From bw. You were from Rj?

Me: Yeah you're in j2?

Watti: No I'm in uni alr lol

Me: Oh which uni

Watti: Princeton lol

 

Ok maybe not strange, but eccentric. I raise my brows at the brand name. That's no joke. 

 

Watti: How're you? 

 

I'm about to reply with a generic 'I'm fine' but it occurs to me that I can take full advantage of my disadvantaged situation. 

 

I give Wattanaporn a long account of what's happened between me and Mike. The tricky part lies in balancing my voice. I cannot appear to self-victimize or whine; I need to sound like a helpless young adult braving the storms. 

 

And I think I've done that well. 

 

Watti: So what's happening now

Me: He hasn't replied but I don't dare to message him. He's called me pushy before.

Watti: lol don't you see he's baiting you

Me: Explain

Watti: He's just doing enough to keep you on the line but isn't gonna reel you in. Just leave that jerk la. 

 

I find myself actually feeling shocked. That an outsider found a new perspective of my relationship in a matter of minutes. It feels like I'm finally able to break through my clouds of anxiety a little and examine my plight from a bird's eye view. 

 

What he's suggesting sounds so right. That this man is simply being manipulative with me. I always thought I had the sharper mind but maybe he's the one stringing me along. 

 

Arthur: Morning! You feeling better now? 

Me: Yes yes!! All anger has dissipated. Hbu? 

 

Ben: Chris you reaching soon?

Me: Around tpy now!! Can't wait to meet you again XD 

 

I'm obviously no angel too. I don't know what I'm doing with these guys but my mind keeps wagging an accusing finger at me with a devilish grin. 

 

Maybe I hadn't been as mature as I thought when I jumped into this. My basic level smarts allowed me to carve out an identity that wasn't a caricature - sweet, committed 18 year old asking to date a much older guy. What a grandiose way to frame myself. But perhaps I had been lost in the grand scheme of things, too focused on how I felt, consumed by blind certainty that I was intelligent enough to make Mike play the game my way. 

 

The train arrives, and I step quickly to the standing corner at the back beside the reserved seat. That space allows me to surf whatever without being peeped at. 

 

With nothing left to do I visit the Blowing Wind forum. I click on the 'jo fun' section - not to post an advert - but simply to see if there are any cute guys posting. 

 

Well there are a few, obviously out of my league. One of the names catches my attention: Underwearguy. I make an inward hissing sound and tap on the door as I try to recall something about this name. 

 

I click on it, certain I know this guy.

 

He's born in 1984, which means he's 32 this year. Oh my god. It can't be, right? 

 

I scroll down, heart suddenly pounding, breaking out in cold sweat. Post after post searching for fun pop up before my eyes, sapping my energy. With a swallow and knowing trepidation I click on the one in a car fun thread. 

 

Looking for car fun around this area now. Lives at bukit timah. 

 

It is him, 4 hours ago. Mike is out there on the net, maybe lurking on BW at this very moment, hoping to hook a response. 

 

I look at the other passengers on the train, wondering if they have noticed my nausea and light-headedness. 

 

That disgusting man - how could he? What gives him the right?! How dare he tell me he's a nice guy when he's such a repugnant fucker?! 

 

I feel angry yet devastated, too tired to think through this clearly. 

 

When the train doors finally open at Dhoby Ghaut I exit and wait at the gantry for Ben. 

 

Halfway through waiting I receive a message.

 

Mike: Morning. I actually feel like we shouldn't be dating.

Me: What do you mean

Mike: I think we progressed too fast. 

 

With that he goes offline. 

 

Blood rushes to my head and I feel an urge to cry. I feed the urge, screwing up my face, playing the images of him agreeing to date me, of him praising me for my goodness and cleverness. Cry, I think. Mike betrayed me when I trusted him wholeheartedly. The first guy I ever dated. The first guy I could imagine a future together with. He is a 32 year old male hag who lied about being kind, about dating me; who complained about cheating exes and yet is the same kind of scum.

 

No tears come and the feeling subsides. I will try again when I get home. Mike did this to me and he must pay. He must be the villain.

 

I know exactly why he's asking to back out. We're both in a game of angels and demons, the way I see it. And he's so eager to take first mover advantage, and portray me as the demon who spoiled everything, so that he can be the hurt victim wanting out. The truth is, he's guilty about cheating. And he simply wants to withdraw back into singlehood so he could be free of all charges of cheating - both from the vicious gay community and his own conscience. 

 

But it's too bad I found out, information I will definitely use to effect a spectacular blow. And he will be the demon who plucked the angel's wings.

 

Me: Hmmm I think I understand. But can we meet up to talk about this? Please?

 

Two can play at this game.

Edited December 24, 2016 by FleaBiscuit

[FleaBiscuit]

On 18 December 2016 at 5:43 PM, Guest Good said:

Good Stuff  

Thanks so much for reading

[Guest On Fire]

Mike is a total scumbag. I hope Chris shows him screengrabs of his posts seeking fun, tells him off, and just walks away leaving him standing somewhere looking stupid. That hopefully comes after Chris has a good time at Ben's photo shoot and around the same time that Ben gets rid of Warren for good.

[chopafl]

Revivveeeeeeee

[Mastiff]

Me: Where??

 

I'm about to send that message when I check myself. That can't do. Subtlety is exigent in the world of online communication; never appear overeager for fear of boring people with your easiness. Be restrained, be the enigmatic, jocular hippie. Reel guys in with a lure, and not a shove or yank.

 

Every character makes a difference:

 

Me: Where?

 

--------

 

Lol! 

 

This is too good. 

 

The untimely rediscovery of your work has made me an absolute annoyance for everyone at the blackjack table - as I try to sneak in a chapter or two between hands. 

 

Admittedly, it'd probably have been less obvious if I wasn't the banker. 

[jiaxxx]

The suspense is killing me

[Eoin]

Great stuff!

 

But, I wonder if you need to be on the CSI Team to see that the cane marksare obviously self-inflicted. 

 

Perhaps love is blind.