Invidia
Invidia
Noah was imagining.
Standing in the corner of somebody's kitchen, a fizzy drink can in his hand; he was avoiding looking across the wooden floor of the hallway and into the living room. Instead, he concentrated on the cold condensation of the can dripping onto his hand and running down his wrist. He focused on the voices as they mingled into one, most of the people he could recognise from his year at school, and others who nobody knew; ones who had just turned up when they had heard the music. He was standing at the back of the kitchen, trapped beside the fridge by a couple of nerdy kids without girlfriends who were in charge of the music -- "let's connect the speakers to the surround sound... maybe the police'll turn up." -- and a couple who’s faces hadn't separated for long enough for him to identify them.
Across the wooden floor, inside the living room, was a couch. That couch was shaking and shuddering as two long bodies lay one on top of another upon it, giggling drunkenly as they touched. A loud clang sounded as a bottle fell to the floor; it went unheard by everyone except Noah. The party was so loud he shouldn't have heard it, but even while he was pretending he was still alert to every move the couple made. They pushed past the others in the house, hands clasped, pausing every couple of steps to press themselves together and touch, to groan into each other's mouths and fondle.
He followed them upstairs. The nerds looked huffy as he pushed past, but he ignored them and snuck up the dim hallway, avoiding the game of drunken football on the upstairs landing, squeezing into a corner. From his vantage point, he could see into the bedroom through the half open door.
He bit his lip, and peered round the door. And then he ran.
The nerds lit up –actually lit up, they puffed with glee at the sight of his face, fleeing from the house. “Serves him right,” one of them said. “He was acting like a lost puppy all night.”
Noah felt the all too familiar tug in his lower belly though, and he launched himself over the low garden wall before he threw up. In mid jump, he lurched forwards and the bile poured out of his lips and nose. He twisted, trying to aim for the ground and keep himself clean, but he only half succeeded; he sprayed the nerds as he turned. He did not allow himself to feel proud of that, and simply kept moving. He ran faster this time, determined to make it home before the second helping of vomit escaped him.
He almost made it home, but the distance was too great and he collapsed in a shuddering heap on the floor.
The fear was like a writhing snake, alive and toxic in his belly. It coiled up, squeezing his organs until he could barely breathe, his lungs felt as though they were collapsing. This was what held him back during the party. That couple, the boy who had been dick deep in that girl was actually his. His boyfriend.
“Dylan,” he groaned into the shrub he had landed on. “Why did you have to do this to me?” He shoved his head back into the bush as the snake reared his head again, for what would be the third time that night. “I hate this,” he muttered. “I hate hating this. I wish it would all just stop.”
He hauled himself up, off of the ground, and began to trudge slowly home.
The police had turned up to the party and arrested the drunkest of the lot, but the nerds had escaped, leaving their equipment behind. “You remember that boy?” one of the nerds asked, “the one who ran off?” The others offered their agreement, paying more attention to the leftover vodka they had smuggled from the party.
“It was his boyfriend.” The girl continued. “The couple he was green faced over, it was his boyfriend and some slut.”
“Why didn’t he go and break them up if he was so jealous over it?” Another questioned, but his reply was simply a shrug. The group turned to the bottle, and drank the rest of the night away.
In his bed, Noah screamed. He was dreaming, replaying the party over and over in his mind. Deep in his dream, the green snake coiled round him, hissing in his ears.
Standing in the corner of somebody's kitchen, a fizzy drink can in his hand; he was avoiding looking across the wooden floor of the hallway and into the living room. Instead, he concentrated on the cold condensation of the can dripping onto his hand and running down his wrist. He focused on the voices as they mingled into one, most of the people he could recognise from his year at school, and others who nobody knew; ones who had just turned up when they had heard the music. He was standing at the back of the kitchen, trapped beside the fridge by a couple of nerdy kids without girlfriends who were in charge of the music -- "let's connect the speakers to the surround sound... maybe the police'll turn up." -- and a couple who’s faces hadn't separated for long enough for him to identify them.
Across the wooden floor, inside the living room, was a couch. That couch was shaking and shuddering as two long bodies lay one on top of another upon it, giggling drunkenly as they touched. A loud clang sounded as a bottle fell to the floor; it went unheard by everyone except Noah. The party was so loud he shouldn't have heard it, but even while he was pretending he was still alert to every move the couple made. They pushed past the others in the house, hands clasped, pausing every couple of steps to press themselves together and touch, to groan into each other's mouths and fondle.
He followed them upstairs. The nerds looked huffy as he pushed past, but he ignored them and snuck up the dim hallway, avoiding the game of drunken football on the upstairs landing, squeezing into a corner. From his vantage point, he could see into the bedroom through the half open door.
He bit his lip, and peered round the door. And then he ran.
The nerds lit up –actually lit up, they puffed with glee at the sight of his face, fleeing from the house. “Serves him right,” one of them said. “He was acting like a lost puppy all night.”
Noah felt the all too familiar tug in his lower belly though, and he launched himself over the low garden wall before he threw up. In mid jump, he lurched forwards and the bile poured out of his lips and nose. He twisted, trying to aim for the ground and keep himself clean, but he only half succeeded; he sprayed the nerds as he turned. He did not allow himself to feel proud of that, and simply kept moving. He ran faster this time, determined to make it home before the second helping of vomit escaped him.
He almost made it home, but the distance was too great and he collapsed in a shuddering heap on the floor.
The fear was like a writhing snake, alive and toxic in his belly. It coiled up, squeezing his organs until he could barely breathe, his lungs felt as though they were collapsing. This was what held him back during the party. That couple, the boy who had been dick deep in that girl was actually his. His boyfriend.
“Dylan,” he groaned into the shrub he had landed on. “Why did you have to do this to me?” He shoved his head back into the bush as the snake reared his head again, for what would be the third time that night. “I hate this,” he muttered. “I hate hating this. I wish it would all just stop.”
He hauled himself up, off of the ground, and began to trudge slowly home.
The police had turned up to the party and arrested the drunkest of the lot, but the nerds had escaped, leaving their equipment behind. “You remember that boy?” one of the nerds asked, “the one who ran off?” The others offered their agreement, paying more attention to the leftover vodka they had smuggled from the party.
“It was his boyfriend.” The girl continued. “The couple he was green faced over, it was his boyfriend and some slut.”
“Why didn’t he go and break them up if he was so jealous over it?” Another questioned, but his reply was simply a shrug. The group turned to the bottle, and drank the rest of the night away.
In his bed, Noah screamed. He was dreaming, replaying the party over and over in his mind. Deep in his dream, the green snake coiled round him, hissing in his ears.