Title Track

I’m not sure if he notices or not, but I’m watching him stare at the cars.

For the first time since I left, I can get a good look at him.

His hair is disheveled, his skin is pasty, his lips are chapped, and I feel so blessed to be in his presence.

I want him to know everything I’ve been thinking, but “I miss you” is nowhere near descriptive enough.

My gut is twisting, and my tongue feels like it’s swollen, and I need to say something.

“Brendon,” I say quietly. He turns his head and looks at me, and for a second, he doesn’t look nearly as displeased with me. “I’ve fucked up. A lot.”

He just watches me, blank face.

“We all have.” He says before looking down at his knees. I nod, knowing he’s not looking.

“I really don’t like where I’m at.” It’s not really loud, not really quiet, and it’s not a lot, but I’m speaking volumes to myself. I really don’t like where I’m at.

“Where’s that?” he’s drawing shapes on the pavement with his finger tips, and sounding uninterested.

“I don’t know anymore.”

“You should probably figure that out.”

It occurs to me that we’re having a civil conversation. I take this as an accomplishment.

“I want to go back.”

“Inside?”

“No. Before I left. I keep thinking about what happened, and why I left, and what could have happened, and I keep coming to the same conclusion.”

“What’s that?”

“We could have made it.”

“I’ve known that forever.”

My cheeks flush, and I want him to understand how serious I am.

“I’ve done a lot of shit since then. A lot of stupid shit.”

“You’ve always been kind of stupid.”

“I’m killing myself, Brendon.”

“That’s really cliché.”

“I think I’m made of clichés.”

“Mmm. Probably.”

“Alex he’s--”

“The guy you’re with now?” he mumbles. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to hear it or not, but I nod.

“Yeah. The guy I’m with now. He’s so… he doesn’t want to do anything. I mean, he wants to do shit, but he could be happy with the life he has right now until the day he dies.”

“And you can’t?”

“I’m never happy anymore.”

“You really are a bad cliché.”

“I can’t remember really enjoying anything aside from when I was with you.”

“You sound like a shitty romance novel.”

“I probably am.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“You’ve got a lot of figuring out to do.”

“Yeah.”

We go quiet again, and all I want is for things to be figured out for me.

“I miss you, too.” he says, still drawing things on the pavement, watching his fingers twirl in the dirt.

I feel like all my senses are being heightened, because I just heard what he said.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” he continues, “I wanted to hate you. I still do. But I think it’s only fair that you know.”

My head feels like it’s swelling up, and I’m going to explode.

“Thanks.” It’s raspy, but it’s all I can manage right now.

“Yeah.”

It feels quiet. Just quiet enough. I feel like I’m in a good place. It’s a really good place. I’m next to Brendon, and he misses me too, and I’m a bad cliché, and I’m okay with that.

I want to stay there forever.

But, as soon as this thought blossoms, Z and Alex stumble out of the bar, bellowing loudly, singing some song I don’t know, and I know the moment is over.

Brendon looks up at the two of them as they walk over to us.

“Ryan!” Alex shouts, and my whole heart drops to my stomach, because I can’t stay here forever. “Z-- is really drunk--” he slurs. I nod. “I think we should take ‘er home.” he says loudly. He pauses, looking at Brendon, and I don’t want him to speak to Brendon; it feels like he’ll contaminate him. “Whose this?” he frowns, and I frown, and Z is laughing at something irrelevant.

“He’s, uh, Brendon.”

“Br’ndon?”

“Yeah.” Brendon says quietly, getting to his feet. “I uh-- I was the waiter. When Ryan threw up.”

“Ah,” Alex’s breath is terrible, and he’s breathing right in Brendon’s face. “well, I’m Alex.” He says proudly. Like that is something to be proud of. Brendon nods, face stiff, and I just want Alex and Z to leave. Alex promptly turns towards me, barely standing on his wobbling legs, “We hafta take Z home.” He slurs. I nod, getting to my feet.

“I’ll meet you in the car. I’m just going to say bye to Brendon.” Alex looks unsure, but nods, and drags Z off to the car.

“He seems nice.” Brendon says quietly. I blink a few times before taking a deep breath.

“I’d like to keep talk, Brendon. Maybe not today, but, I’d like to try and make things better. At the very least, I want you to understand how sorry I am.”

He’s watching his feet kick pebbles at the wall, hands shoved in his pocket, and he nods.

“Yeah. Fine. That’s fine.”

I look around awkwardly, before pulling my phone out. “Could I maybe get your number? To call you, so we can… talk?”

I feel like an idiot.

But, he nods, and gives me his number.

I feel like this is another accomplishment.

“Do you-- do you need mine? So you’ll know it’s me when I call?”

“It’s probably better if I don’t.” he says, and everything is so quiet; it feels like we’re keeping a secret.

“Yeah. Okay.” I watch him as he continues to stare at the ground. “So, I’ll call you.”

“Yeah.”

I swallow, not wanting to leave. I never want to leave.

“So. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I walk away, turning my head to get a last glimpse of him, because this feels so unstable, and I want to make sure that he was really there.

As I get into the drivers seat, I notice him watching me, too.

Tonight is a night for accomplishments.