Almost Easy

I fumbled with the keys. I was trying to keep my nerves in check but my adrenaline just would not stop pumping. My hands shook as I tried to dig Ty’s key out of my ring.
Got it.
I unlatched the lock and burst into his apartment like a bat out of hell.
“Tyler?” I called, seeing no sign of life in my immediate area. “Tyler?”
I tossed my keys onto his kitchen counter as I walked through to get to the living room. No Tyler there either. I checked the bathroom—nothing.
“Tyler?” I called, more desperate this time.
Motherfucker.
I threw his bedroom door open, half-expecting to find my friend hanging from the ceiling. The other part was not expecting to find him at all.
But he was there. In his bed. Staring at the ceiling—seemingly catatonic.
“Tyler,” I snapped loudly.
He jolted and moved to look at me, “Hey.”
“I’ve been calling your name,” I hissed. “Why didn’t you answer me?”
“I didn’t hear you,” he said quietly.
He’d taken on the look of someone else. This happened often, I’d found in our decades of friendship. When Ty got caught up in his darkness, his face would contort and his eyes would darken. He became someone that was difficult to be around.
I’d always sodded through anyway.
I carried myself across his tiny bedroom and climbed into his bed, snuggling up to him under the blankets.
“You scared me,” I sighed. “You can’t do that to me.”
He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
I hugged him tightly, “What’s happening, Ty? What’s going on?”
His Adams apple shifted as he swallowed hard. He took a deep breath, still refusing to look at me.
“Same old.”
“Tyler,” I pressed.
“I don’t know, Blair,” he pouted, his eyes searching the ceiling for something I couldn’t see. “It’s too much.”
“I need more information,” I pleaded lightly. “What’s too much?”
“Everything,” he winced, he was fighting tears.
“What happened?” I pushed. “You seemed fine this afternoon.”
“I’m never fine,” Tyler gushed, a little too dramatically for my taste.
It was a wonder that we’d stayed friends all these years. We were so different than one another; he was serious and endlessly sad. I was insensitive and critical always. He softened me, though—and I toughened his shell.
That solves that mystery.
“Was dinner bad?”
He tried to smile, “No, it was fine. Same old shit. John’s got a new girlfriend.”
“Another one?” I scoffed. “Good lord.”
“He’s got about the same level of self-control as you do,” Ty jabbed from inside his cloud.
I shrugged, “You’re not wrong.”
“Why is it that someone like John can get a girlfriend every other week but I’ve been single for two fucking years?” he groaned, blinking hard. “What’s wrong with me, Blair? Why doesn’t anybody want me?”
“I want you,” I frowned, rubbing his arm absently.
He shook his head, “You know it’s not the same. You are the only person on this entire planet that gives a shit about me.”
“That’s not true,” I protested seriously, sitting up to look at him. “You have friends, Tyler. And you have fans. What about them?”
“Fuck them,” he bit.
“Tyler,” I warned, “I can appreciate that you’re having a day but you don’t need to be a prick about it. You have so many people in your life that love and care about you—it isn’t fair to discount them.”
“Fair?” Tyler choked, choosing then to make eye contact for the first time. “You want to talk about fair, Blair? My whole life has been one disaster after another. Nothing has been easy. Nothing has been fair. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I wouldn’t understand?” I tried not to yell. “Don’t do that, don’t turn this on me.”
“I’m not,” he growled, looking back up at the ceiling. “I’m just saying—you don’t get it and I don’t expect you to.”
“You’re not a mystery to me, Tyler,” I hissed. “I’ve known you forever. Nothing you do is surprising to me at this point. Except when you turn your anger over to me—that I have never understood and still don’t understand.”
He rolled his motherfucking eyes.
“Tyler,” I said again, coldly this time. “Let me just give you a run through of my peachy fucking existence. My parents died, Tyler. They died. They died before I even got the chance to get to know them—fuck, I was so young that I hardly remember them. I can’t remember the sound of my mother’s voice. I don’t remember what she smelled like. They died because of my father. So, I’ve been conflicted my entire life—do I grieve him? Do I hate him? Can I still love him even if I blame him?”
“Blair—” Tyler tried but I wasn’t having it.
“You’ve met my aunt,” I continued without taking a breath. “You know what she’s like. That’s the shit that I was brought up in. I was raised to control my emotions, or void them completely. I was taught that love is fictional. Then I meet you, and you’re the best fucking person that I’ve ever known. We grow up together, go through all sorts of shit together, and then you develop this depression.”
“This depression,” Tyler repeated with a sarcastic laugh.
“This,” I repeated, gesturing to his catatonic body. “This has been going on since we were fucking children, Tyler. I’ve stood by your side always. I’ve never left, I’ve never made you feel badly about it—not intentionally anyway. I’ve defended you. I’ve picked up when you’ve called—I drove here at 2:00 in the morning to make sure that you were still breathing. Do you think that’s easy for me, Tyler? Do you think it’s easy to go to bed every night hoping that your best friend doesn’t take their own life while you’re sleeping?”
This last punch seemed to soften Tyler’s disposition. He turned to me, tears seeping from his sad eyes. His lip trembled.
“I love you,” I sighed, trying not to tear up, “so much. Why doesn’t that matter to you?”
“It does,” he cried.
I rested my head back onto his shoulder. I’d started to do this thing once we were about fifteen. That was the age when Tyler spent most of the year in the hospital. He’d tried to commit suicide a whopping nine times. That was, easily, the worst year of my life.
So now, every time we were together, I tried to take a mental picture. I memorized his smell, his voice, the sound of his breathing—everything I could sink my teeth into. I wouldn’t forget him like I’d forgotten my parents. I wouldn’t allow it.
“I’m sorry that I’m like this,” Tyler finally said, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. “I’ll try to be better.”
“Please don’t apologize,” I said seriously. “You never need to apologize to me for being who you are. I need you to listen to me, though; when I’m trying to talk you down. I can’t lose you, Tyler. I can’t lose you.”
“You won’t,” he rubbed my arm with his hand, pulling me into his chest. “You won’t and I am sorry. I won’t call you like this anymore.”
“You call me like this every time,” I instructed him. “I mean it.”
“You’re a good friend to me,” he sighed. “I don’t deserve it.”
I squeezed him, “You deserve more than I can give to you.”
And that was the truth.
We stayed up talking all night. I guess Brian was right when he said I’d be a while. I’d ended up falling asleep in Tyler’s arms—he was still sleeping when I woke.
I watched him for a while, admiring how peaceful he looked. The demons seemed to be tamed for the time being and I could breathe again for a while before they surely returned.
He awoke a few moments later, immediately searching the room for me. I both loved and resented that.
“Hey,” I whispered gently.
He half-smiled, “Hey.”
“Still up for that breakfast you promised me?” I asked, hopeful. “I’ll even drive.”
“Yeah,” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Sure.”
I pulled Tyler out of the bed and we wasted little time on prepping ourselves for the outside world. I really didn’t care what I looked like and apart from relieving my bladder, there was nothing I needed to do first thing in the morning.
It was far earlier than I typically liked to wake up but what could ya do.
We chose a place close to the studio that was well known for its brunch menu.
“Apparently this place has incredible eggs benedict,” Ty told me as he surveyed the menu.
I grimaced, “Gross.”
“Your coffees,” the friendly waitress announced as she set two steaming hot mugs onto the table. “Do we still need a minute?”
“I’m easy,” I shrugged, “I’ll take a ham and cheese omelet with white toast please. No potatoes.”
“I’ll take her potatoes,” Tyler added. “I’ll just get the same.”
“I thought you wanted eggs benedict,” I argued like his choice in food actually mattered.
“No,” he laughed, “I just said that I’d heard they made a good benny.”
“We do!” the waitress beamed proudly.
“Omelets are fine,” Tyler said to her, avoiding eye contact at all costs.
The waitress bounced off toward the kitchen. As I sipped, and burned myself with, my coffee, I examined my friend.
“She’s cute,” I offered.
He nodded absently, “I guess.”
“You should ask her out.”
He shook his head, “No thanks.”
“You could at least look at her,” I changed my tune. “Do you think you’ll break if you look at another human?”
“Yep,” he said simply, dumping sugar into his cup.
“You’ll look at me though,” I noted with a smirk.
He shrugged, “You’re not human.”
“I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment,” I said flatly.
He looked at me then and smiled, “You’re a Goddess on earth, Blair. The epitome of an angel.”
“Goddess or angel? I can’t be both. You have to pick one.”
Tyler laughed and chucked a sugar packet at me, “Now you’re neither.”
Breakfast was delicious and helped to alleviate some of the prior night’s stress. I dropped Tyler off at home with a promise to meet him at the studio in an hour. That meant I had to seriously hurry home and take the world’s fastest shower.
Drying my hair and headed for the bedroom, I noticed my phone’s light flashing in the living room. I was a nosy son of a gun, so I went straight for it.
Three new messages.
Well look who’s little miss popular now.
“Hey Blair, it’s Brian. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t give me a fake number or something. Hope everything’s alright.”
I smiled to myself and my heart fluttered. I wish I’d been that hilarious to give him a fake number—that would have made for quite the conversation later.
“Me again,” his voice surprised me. “I just—I don’t know why I’m calling. Sorry. I’ll talk to you later.”
I laughed, heading in the direction of my tiny kitchen to make myself a tea to go in an attempt to ease my aching throat.
Maybe Jimmy was right, maybe Brian did like me.
“Fuck,” Brian’s voice a third time made me stop dead in my tracks. I waited on bated breath. “I had a great time with you tonight, Blair. I just wanted to get that out in the open—we should do it again soon. I hope Tyler’s alright. I’ll call you later.”
End of messages.
I couldn’t help but feel quite smug. It was apparent to me then that Brian was harbouring a certain something for me.
Maybe it was the promise of getting laid that had hooked him—we were interrupted right on the cusp of something… but I’d never left three messages for a booty call before. Hell, I’d never left any messages for a booty call. Not like his messages.
And then it occurred to me that I cared. I cared what his motives for calling were. I cared if all he wanted out of me was sex—not that I couldn’t be talked into a strictly sexual relationship. But, all I could think about all morning were his eyes. The way those same eyes traced around my body, his hands following. The sound of his voice as he called me ‘love’. The way that Jimmy spoke of his apparent feelings for me. The way that his face lights up when I speak…
And that I cared about any of that.

Notes

Not a whole lot of Brian this chapter--but just enough, I think.
xx