FicWad

I don’t know why I was so furiously envious of Travis. I mean, it’s not like he was that much better looking than me really. It’s not that he was that much taller than me either. Patrick only just met him today, so I wasn’t worrying about them both running away together or anything. Patrick did get the job and Spiller’s. He’d actually worked there all day. He didn’t give me an excuse as to why he didn’t call until he got home. He simply said: ‘Oh, well.. I kind of lost track of time’. Yeah, like a whole eleven hours of his life just magically disappeared.

He was talking to Travi since twelve. He was the first customer, asking for advise on some hip hop vinyls that were in the back storage or something like that. I wasn’t really listening. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t dislike Travis. Not at all. He was a good guy and honestly I could see us being good friends. It’s just that Patrick seemed to hang on to every word he said. Not that I could blame him. I’m sure him and Travis had more in common than me and Patrick did. Travis knew music. Hell, Travis lived and breathed music. Everything he did was for music sakes. He was even a lead singer of a band himself. Gym Class Heroes. Some little band that were quite popular around these parts. In fact, this is how I realized where I recognized him from.

‘I think I did an interview with you’ I said to Travi after much thought

‘Really?’ Travis asked, ‘An interview for what?’

‘A’ Tude magazines’ I answered, ‘Back.. Last October I think’

‘Yeah….’ Travis nodded, ‘We did have an interview with A’ Tude once I think.. Your hair was shorter then’

‘Uh huh’ I smiled, remembering the Travi I met on October 12th, ‘You had cornrows’

‘I believe so’ He poked happily at his tower of hair, ‘ Grown a little since’

I nodded. That was it. The peak of our conversation. Me and Travis that is. I went to bed at eleven. I was exhausted. Patrick asked if Travis could stay over. Sure, first day you meet a guy not only do you bring him to my apartment without asking me but you let him stay overnight. Fine, I’m too tired to argue. I just wished I could stop my brain ticking overtime. Every time my eyes closed my mind would yell for me to go check on them. Make sure Patrick isn’t being too flirty. Make sure Travis isn’t eyeing him up. Jesus, I didn’t even think Travis was gay but here I was pissing and moaning again. I suppose it is true. It’s not easy to get people to change.

I used to get jealous over Ash. Ash for god sakes. Every time she’d wrap her arms around one of her producer friends, every time she smiled and kissed the cheek of one of her ‘business partners’. Well, now I know about the baby I guess I had reason to be suspicious and cautious. She was going to have someone else’s baby. I mean, I wasn’t worried that Patrick would go and have Travis’ baby. Not that that is even possible but you know what I mean.

I was lying on my back in my bed that was, for once, uncomfortable. Laughter echoed from the front room every now and again as Travis said something funny or Patrick told a comical story. No matter how many pillows I piled on my head I couldn’t block out their hushed tones. It was far passed three in the morning before Patrick joined me in bed. I curled myself into the foetal position, facing away from him. Putting on my best gentle snore impression I sank into the mattress. I felt Patrick shift, pressing his chest to my back and wrapping an arm around me. I sighed involuntarily.

‘Patrick…’ I whispered, eyes still closed

‘Yeah…’ He replied softly into my ear, sounding like he was about to nod off

‘I…love you…’ I mumbled sleepily

Patrick didn’t answer. My heart sank. Okay, maybe I wasn’t sure if I loved him yet but the fact that he didn’t even say anything back. I didn’t expect him to say that he loved me back. I didn’t expect him to get all excited and kiss me passionately or anything like that. To be honest, I was feeling a little insecure right now. Anything would have comforted me. Instead, he was asleep or pretending to be asleep anyhow. I dropped my face into the pillow and exhaled.

I knew that sleeping wasn’t really going to work tonight. Making sure that Patrick was definitely asleep I wriggled my way out of his grip. He grunted a little, arched his back then fell back down onto the bed. I grinned sadly, staring at him. It’s not that I didn’t trust him. Hell, he’s my best friend and I would trust him with my life. It was everyone else I didn’t trust. Walking quietly into the living room, not wanting to wake him, I crept over to my couch and found the notepad among the cushions. I smiled. Then I proceeded to the kitchen where I pulled a black sharpie pen out of the top drawer. I sat myself down in my regular spot on the couch with the paper flipped open. I wrote in big letters all across the top of the page : ‘I Keep My Jealousy Close’. I scribbled thick black lines underneath it.

I wasn’t trying to be bitter. I mean, Patrick was never going to see this anyway. I was just letting off steam. Like boxing or jogging. Channelling my anger in a constructive way. A couple of stars, a stickman. I gave the stickman a hat. I drew a stickman version of myself by his side. Stick Patrick was smiling, Stick Pete wasn’t. I drew an arrow from Stick Pete down to a huge bubble I scribbled down at the bottom of the page. Inside I wrote : ‘Why Stick Pete Is So Sad’ to begin my list. I paused, running through my own ideas as to how I could possibly go from flying high to rock bottom. I wrote down the only answer that came to mind.

‘I don’t know…’ I repeated out loud.

‘Can’t sleep?’ Travis asked from the doorframe of the spare room

I snapped my head around to look at him and smiled. I shook my head, hiding the notepad behind me. He spotted it before I managed to conceal it. He pointed at the paper.

‘Writing helps me sleep too’ Travis nodded, crossing his arms

‘Doesn’t help me sleep really’ I sighed, rubbing my temples, ‘But my head’s full of shit that I could do without… So, I’m letting it out’

‘Fair enough’ Travis smiled, turning around ‘Goodnight P’

‘Night Travi’ I called, poking my nails with the end of the sharpie

In the remaining space of the bubble I sketched a giant question mark under my title. Why was Stick Pete so sad? Cause Stick Pete can’t be who he should be. Cause Stick Pete can’t be who he wishes he was.