He stops, we stand there for a moment looking at each other, well, I look at the spot on his mask where his eyes must be, and then he steps back and disappears into the shadows of the trees.
With my lips tight, my fists clenched, and everything inside me drawn into a knot, I cross the last stretch toward home, and deep down… I’m cursing just as much as Oswald was.
Why didn’t I ask him something?
It was the perfect chance. We walked side by side for a moment. I could’ve stopped and inquired, Who are you, what the hell are you doing here, and why do you keep showing up in places where I am? Are you stalking me?
But I didn’t, I wasted another opportunity. Who knows, if I stay careful and avoid dark paths, maybe I’ll never see him again.
But why the hell do I feel disappointed? He’s a stranger. A weird guy. With a fast-pacing heart.
???
Indeed, for the next few months I make a huge effort to avoid walking through the park after dark, but not for any reason related to the stalker. It’s only because I don’t want to end up in any more nerve-wracking situations, duh!
It all requires these elaborate strategies of joining groups of students, making sure I’m never anywhere alone, and of course, steering clear of Oswald.
Oswald actually attends a few of my classes, and earlier I never paid attention to him because I generally don’t pay attention to people unless I’m interested in them, but now he keeps staring at me with this strange intensity, even though he still keeps his distance.
A couple of times, I also run into Zion and Kaen on campus. They’re in a different department than me, but sometimes I see them in the cafeteria.
Once they even sit with me and of course the topic of Oswald comes up.
"We heard you treated poor Oswald terribly," Kaen grins. "The guy was really crushed after you sicced some weird dude on him. Who was that?"
"I have no idea, some guy who was probably coming back from a masquerade party, he thought Oswald was about to attack me," I downplay it, pretending nothing is going on, saying it all as casually as possible.
Thankfully they’re too wrapped up in themselves to think much about Oswald. The topic isn’t continued, and I do everything I can to avoid both of them and Oswald himself, who keeps giving me dark looks whenever I accidentally end up in his line of sight.
So, my extreme caution means I don’t run into the stalker anymore. The only place I see him now is in my own… imagination.
Feeling disgusting and miserable, I fantasize that in exchange for his protection, I offer him my hole completely willingly, right there on those garden paths.
But I can’t imagine it being anyone other than Bay; I simply can’t get aroused by it. So I picture it’s indeed Bay underneath it, taking on this protective role, wanting to spare me an open contact with him, not to ignite something painful and impossible between us. But in fantasies, it works. I insert Bay into the stalker persona and play with that in my head.
It’s messed up, but I’m too deeply stuck in depression to think clearly, and the constant stress and exhaustion make my morality blurry like fog.
Why the hell didn’t I stop and talk to him?
Demand answers?
But it’s too late for that now, and I don’t intend to give him any chance to act by wandering around the campus park in the dark. I’m not that desperate.
Meanwhile, as for Jared, thanks to my enormous effort and hiring a few extra tutors, he finally manages to finish high school. I’m proud of myself that at least I fulfilled that kind of responsibility toward him, because that’s exactly how I saw it, that since I took him under my roof I was obligated to act as his guardian, even if he clearly didn’t see it that way.
Four days after Jared picks up his diploma, he comes to me and informs me he’s moving out.
Our one honest conversation didn’t change much. Yes, it made him less rude and rebellious, but more closed off and reluctant to engage with me.
It didn’t heal anything for real.
I have no argument left to keep him, even though I know that wherever he’s going, it definitely won’t be the smartest path.
I conclude that from the kind of people who sometimes drive him home and the state he is in when he gets out of the car, tipsy and reeking. I’m absolutely certain that whatever he’s planning to do, it won’t be sweet, safe, or pleasant work.
On his Instagram, which grows quickly, he posts pictures from shoots that someone does for him, though I have no idea who. They’re not nude fortunately, though definitely provocative enough that his follower count skyrockets.
Paradoxically, that actually makes me happier, because the more public Jared becomes, the safer he theoretically might be, and whoever would want to hurt him would have to take into account that he isn’t completely anonymous online.
