This Is How I Disappear

I yawn, and the force of it makes my eyes water. Red-head’s jaw twitches, and I wonder why. His nostrils flare. Is he angry? That puerile frown contorts his lips for a moment, before he opens his mouth as wide as it can go and yawns with a bellow. I turn to stare at him with a ‘what was that?’ expression on my face.

He catches my eye as another yawn shudders through him, and tells me, “Stop yawning.”

I’m trying to label his brand of crazy, when another yawn arises within me. Unable to resist it, I yawn, and my eyes tear up again.

“Stop it,” red-head says, annoyed, whilst yawning.

“I can’t,” I yawn back, blinking away the moisture.

“Yawns are contagious,” he informs me, grumpily yawning. “You have to stop.”

The next yawn I clench my teeth for.

Yawning for the fifth time, red-head stands up from the cramped couch and switches off the TV. “I guess they’ll find the bodies tomorrow morning. I’m gonna sleep. You tired?”

I nod, but I think my yawns answer for me.

He heads to the light switches and shuts them all off so it’s pitch black. I stand, trying to find my way to the bedroom. As I make my way over to where I think the doorway is, I trip over something on the floor, and fall face first to the ground.

Yes, my brain remarks, those brown stains are sticky.

Thanks for telling me, I say dryly, picking myself up.

Suddenly, there are hands on my waist, my arm. I think I stop breathing for a second.

“Man, you are clumsy,” red-head mutters from above me as he helps me stand.

“Uh,” I reply breathily, “yeah, sorry.”

He releases me once I’m up, but I wish he wouldn’t.

Don’t do anything stupid, my brain warns me out of nowhere.

What do you mean? I ask, recovering from his touch and following his shadow into the bedroom.

I mean, my brain intones, He’s insane, and even though—for whatever reason—you’re attracted to him, you better not do anything to act on that, or you’ll be dead in an instant.

You don’t know that, I protest weakly.

Oh, you’re right! my brain snarks. Let’s test this theory on a murderer!

Shut up, I sigh, deflated.

Red-head moves his pillow to one side of the queen-size mattress that is flopped on the floor, and draws an imaginary line down the middle. “I get left, you get right. Cross this line, and I will kick you into last week,” he informs me calmly.

See? my brain whispers. I try to ignore it.

“Great,” I reply out loud. “Before I was framed for murder.”

Red-head glares. “Are you really still hung up about that?”

I stare incredulously. “Yes!” I exclaim vehemently. “I mean, it’s murder, not cheating on a test! I’ll be a fugitive for the rest of my life!” I stop as this realization hits me. “The rest of my life….” I sway a little on my feet, and instantly red-head is there by my elbow, guiding me to the bed.

For the first time all night, I don’t get excited or nervous by his light touch. He sits me down, but I barely notice. “I’ll never see my family again,” I whisper to no one. “I’ll never go home….” Tears come to my eyes and I can’t prevent them from leaking out.

Beside me, red-head sighs heavily. “God damn it,” he mutters.

Did I do something to deserve this? I ask my brain.

You mean, other than being gay?

That’s not fair, I say. That’s not my fault…. Is it?

My brain seems to sigh. If you could choose not to be gay, wouldn’t you have done it already? All it has brought you is loneliness and bullying. It’s not something you can choose, it’s who you are.

I tried once, I reply, sobbing into my hands, to like girls. But they just…. I don’t know. They aren’t attractive to me.

I know, my brain sympathizes.

I’m wrong and pathetic, I growl. I should have killed myself.

NO, my brain denies forcefully.

What? I ask, surprised. Why not?

This could be your chance at a new life, my brain explains carefully. Maybe even…with this guy.

I bite my lip ring. Why do you keep changing your mind? It’s so confusing.

Because you don’t know what to think, my brain answers, and then I’m alone in my head.

I realize I’ve stopped sobbing, and am just sniffling now. Red-head hands me some tissues for my runny nose. I almost forget myself and hand the used tissues back to him, but instead I stand and make my way to the kitchen where I throw them away. When I walk back into the bedroom, red-head puts the pillow in the middle again.

I tongue my lip ring nervously. Is he throwing me out?

But he just says, “I’m going out. Bed’s all yours.”

I furrow my eyebrows as he zips up his jacket and heads for the door that leads out of the basement/apartment. “Even the pillow?” I check.

He graces me with a small, sincere smile. “Yeah. I’ll be back in the morning.” And he’s gone.

For a moment, I stare after him. Then I go to the bed, place the pillow back on his side, and curl up to sleep on the other.